


Joyride

by Not_You



Series: one only understands the things that one tames [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Comeplay, Dominant Bottom, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets the bike working again.  There is much rejoicing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyride

The day Clint is supposed to go back on active duty, Phil wakes up to the thunder of a motorcycle engine. He gets up and goes to the garage to find Clint grinning from ear to ear. “I got it running again, boss!” He calls, sounding delighted. Phil feels his mouth stretching in an answering grin, and watches as Clint stops it again, standing up and coming over, already dressed for work. “I don’t have much time, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Of course not,” Phil says, and makes sure Clint is fed and given a goodbye kiss before he goes back to bed for more sleep on one of his precious days off. He really _does_ watch ‘Supernanny’ when he’s not using his brain for actual work, and doesn’t get out of his bathrobe until three in the afternoon. It’s that kind of day. He bestirs himself sufficiently to order pizza shortly before Clint is due back, but that is the zenith of his effort.

The delivery driver beats Clint home, but not by too much, so everything is still warm when Clint comes staggering in, reeling in exaggerated misery. “They made me do _paperwork_ , boss! It was horrible!”

Phil laughs, and pulls Clint into his arms. “Poor baby. Would a pizza with those horrible banana peppers, jalapenos, olives, and double cheese and salami help?”

“Best. Dom. Ever,” Clint sighs, nuzzling Phil’s shoulder.

“I try,” Phil says, softly and more sincerely than he means to. There’s no way to cover so he just holds Clint a little longer and kisses his cheek before letting him go. “Now, eat it while it’s still fresh.”

“Whatever, you know I like it cold, too,” Clint says, going and putting three slices on a plate, which makes Phil want to weep with joy because whatever else he may or may not have trained him into or out of, Clint damn well uses real flatware now. Phil arranges his own decent, god-fearing pepperoni slices, starts to settle at the table, and sighs as Clint gives him a beseeching look.

“Oh, all right, we can eat on the couch and watch cartoons.” Phil personally believes in eating at a real table whenever one is available, but sinking into the soft cushions and feeling Clint’s warm weight as he leans against him, he has to admit that it’s not that bad. Just so long as no one spills, and Clint’s lethal hand-eye coordination helps ensure that. He snuggles in against Phil’s side, but bounces up the second he finishes his pizza, bolting a fourth slice over the sink. “Clint?”

“Gotta get out to the garage, boss.”

“Oh, right.” Phil smiles. “If you go out, I’d like to see you before I fall asleep.”

“Yes, sir!” Clint calls, and vanishes into the garage. Phil finishes his meal while pondering Courage the Cowardly Dog, and is washing the plates when he hears the bike’s engine roaring again. He smiles as the sound fills the garage and then leaves it for the street outside. He can’t help a tiny bit of worry after what happened the last time Clint took the bike out, but that was completely different and Phil is not going to worry about him. He even manages to get some work done, but he’s definitely fretting as he undresses and brushes his teeth, and lies there reading the same page over and over again until he hears a motorcycle approaching the house. No one else in the neighborhood (as far as there is a neighborhood) has one, so it must be Clint, but he tells himself not to assume until the sound is gently vibrating the house and then cuts off. Phil closes his eyes and breathes slowly in and out. He’s not worried anymore, but still anxious, somehow. He listens as Clint’s footsteps come closer and closer, and then the door finally opens.

“Hey, boss?” Clint’s voice is soft, but carries from the doorway. “You awake?”

“Yes.” Phil sits up, and shivers. Clint always looks good, but now he’s flushed and windblown and has left his shirt somewhere. He stalks over with bright, avid eyes, and crawls onto the bed beside Phil.

“Good,” he says, and kisses Phil. It’s slow and rough and challenging, and Phil reacts without thinking, cupping Clint’s face in his hands and kissing back the same way, taking control from Clint and pulling him even closer as he goes lax in Phil’s arms. Clint shudders and makes a little cooing noise into Phil’s mouth, all warm and hard and smelling like the night wind.

“So fucking beautiful,” Phil growls, pushing Clint over and rolling him onto his back. Clint whines, letting Phil arrange him in the center of the bed. He looks up with wide eyes, already going glassy and helpless.

“Please, master,” he whispers, and Phil has to kiss him again, slow and dirty. Clint moans, and makes a high-pitched, needy little sound when Phil finally pulls away.

“Sshh. It’s okay, Clint. I’ll take care of you.” He runs his hands over Clint’s chest, soothing and pressing him down into the mattress. Clint bites his lip and moans quietly, wriggling and panting as Phil strips him. He’s already hard, and Phil feels such a surge of silly affection for him that he presses a kiss to the tip of Clint’s cock, making him flinch and cry out softly. Phil smiles, nuzzling Clint’s thigh and crawling up to guide Clint’s arms over his head. “Four-point leather all right with you?” Clint’s helpless moan sounds like an affirmative, but Phil waits for words.

“…Yes,” Clint manages to gasp. “ _Please_ …”

“Such a good boy,” Phil whispers, and kisses his forehead. “Just hold still for me.” As usual, Clint is a good boy, and takes steady, careful breaths as Phil binds him to the four posts of the bed. Phil is achingly hard by the time he's done, but he takes a moment just to admire Clint, lying there spread-eagle and hard and so beautifully vulnerable. “Perfect,” Phil sighs, and presses a kiss over Clint’s heart. Clint sighs, and opens his eyes, pupils blown. Phil shivers, and pulls the lube out of the bedside drawer. Clint watches with wide eyes as Phil straddles him, kneeling up and rubbing one slick finger over and over his hole. “Can you see, Clint?”

“Yes, master,” Clint breathes, and blushes badly.

Phil smiles down at him. “Good.” He shivers, pressing his fingertip in. “Aahh…” He tips his head back, slowly and carefully working himself open, knowing that Clint is watching. He bites his lip and groans as he pushes a third lubed finger in.

“Please, master, please,” Clint whimpers, struggling against the straps, “I c-can’t…”

“Give me a color, sweetheart.”

“Y-yellow? But I don’t want you to slow down, please master, please…” He struggles a little more, getting wild-eyed and a little panicked, and Phil rests his free hand on Clint’s throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just lets it sit there and hold Clint in place like a heavy collar would.

“Breathe,” Phil says, and Clint takes deep, steady breaths, calming a little. “I’m almost ready, and I know you can wait for me.” Clint whines and nods, closing his eyes and fighting to stay still as Phil slicks his cock.

“Oh, master...” It comes out so soft and broken that Phil moans, leaning down to kiss him even as his own fingers are busily stretching. It burns a little, but Phil likes that. He groans and fucks himself with three fingers for a few strokes, and then slides them out, lining up against the tip of Clint’s cock. There’s a breathless, frozen moment, and then Phil is sinking down. He moves slowly, and Clint shakes but doesn’t move otherwise, taut and desperate but being so good for Phil. Phil tells him so over and over, cupping Clint’s face in his hands and covering it with kisses as his hips rock slow and then faster. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Clint begs, mumbling into Phil’s mouth. 

Phil growls and bites Clint’s lip, speeding up and lengthening his strokes, fucking Clint hard and fast until he starts to babble that he can’t last, whimpering apologies until Phil kisses him again and tells him, “I want you to come, I want you to come for me and I want to feel it.” Clint groans and obeys just a moment later, twitching and throbbing inside Phil until he finally stops bucking and subsides, whimpering softly. Phil shivers, kissing the corner of Clint’s mouth. “Always such a good boy for me.” He slowly pulls off of Clint’s cock, and shuffles up on his knees and takes his own cock in his hand, aiming it at Clint’s perfect chest. “Ready?”

“Please, master,” Clint pants, “Please come on me.”

There is no way Phil can refuse, and it hits him hard and fast, shaking him and making him cry out and throw his head back. Clint whines, tugging at the straps binding his wrists. “Just a minute,” Phil gasps, collecting himself and then running his fingers along Clint’s chest, gathering up the mess. “I need you to help me clean up.” Clint whines sharply, and opens his mouth for Phil’s seeking fingers, sucking them clean. That done, Phil unties his boy and gathers him into his arms. He holds Clint for a long time, petting and praising him until it feels right to get up and come back with a warm, wet washcloth. He cleans them both properly, and then throws the cloth in the hamper and turns off the light, crawling into bed and wrapping around Clint, holding him close enough that they seem to share a heartbeat.


End file.
